


New York Cheesecake

by Amrais



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: Eating Disorders, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 17:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amrais/pseuds/Amrais
Summary: Something is going on with Monica, but only Chandler notices...





	New York Cheesecake

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Oneshot I wrote on my way to work. Hope someone will like it. Kudos and Comments always mean a lot to me!  
Thanks for reading!!

It’s been four weeks since Monica has lost her job and everyone expected her to go absolutely crazy. Normally, when she’s stressed out, her perfectionism spikes and borders on obsession. That usually leads to fights with Rachel, who honestly isn’t the tidiest person ever.  
But Monica seems to be barely at home. In the Morning she’s out running, in the afternoon she has a yoga class and the rest of the day she spends in her room, or in the kitchen, cooking for them. They are all surprised how well she’s handling being out of work. 

For dinner they all meet up in the girls flat and the table is nearly bending under all the delicious things Monica has piled up there.  
Joey blissfully munches on his fifth mini-quiche, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.  
“Mon, these little things are absolutely delicious. I’ll marry you, if you promise to make them everyday, till the end of my life.”  
“You would die from obesity or a heart attack, if she would feed them to you every day.” Ross says thoughtfully. Joey makes a face in Rosses general direction.  
Content Monica watches her friends scarf down the food she has made for them. It’s good to feel like she’s needed.  
“Monica, won’t you eat anything?” Chandler suddenly pulls her out of her reverie.  
“I…ehm, I already ate.” She stutters. “When I was cooking.” She quickly adds, but feels the heat creep up her neck anyway.  
“Ok.” He says and smiles at her. 

Lost in thoughts Monica leans on the counter, warming her hands on her coffee. Black, without any milk or sugar, like she used to drink it, a long time ago. It’s a cold and rainy November day and it seems, that she can’t get warm today.  
A pointed cry from the bathroom startles her. Rachel storms out of the bath, puffing her chest out in front of her, hands on her hips.  
“I’ve gained three kilos in one week. That’s your fault Monica!”  
Monica blinks at her best friend, unsure if Rachel is really angry or just her hyper self. Rachel answers that question by taking one of the freshly baked cookies from the tray and stuffing it into her mouth.  
“Screw that.” She says cheerfully, “it’s nearly winter anyways.” She pours herself some coffee and Monica watches jealously how she shovels two spoons full of sugar into the cup an then adds a generous dash of milk.  
“How do you do it? Stay so thin?” The blonde asks over her shoulder.  
Monica thinks: ‘Discipline and pain.’ She says:  
“I think running might be the secret.” Well, it’s part of the secret anyway.  
She offers an unsure smile, but Rachel already is browsing through a fashion magazine and doesn’t pay her any attention anymore. Monica sighs inaudible and goes to change into her running gear. 

Monica knows that she’s obsessive again. She’s been that way way too many times in her life. Mostly she’s fine with that. Her perfectionism has gotten her places. It made her go from fat and ugly to beautiful and thin. It has gotten her into a chefs master class. She has learned that she can do everything when she puts her mind to it. She gets that she’s a bit anal to everyone around her, but that’s just the way she is.  
She knows that this is hurting her. That living on coffee and fat free yoghurt and barely anything else, isn’t healthy. But no one ever has said anything. Quite the opposite. When she went from overeating to restricting and controlling her eating, her mother encouraged her. In their circles it was an every day thing that young girls refused to eat or that they were permanently on a diet. It was totally normal for them to look in the mirror and hate themselves. Nobody ever told her to stop, to just eat without thinking of the consequences. Not even when she nearly collapsed in school. It made her feel invisible.

There’s something off about Monica. But Chandler can’t place a finger on it. It’s something in her eyes maybe, a vulnerability he hasn’t noticed before, a fragility in her body? He normally is oblivious to women’s body’s. Like yeah, he can tell if he finds them attractive or not, but he honestly does not know how much they probably weight. But he feels like Monica has lost some weight lately. Maybe he noticed, when she placed her hand on his chest the other day, while they were making fun of Ross. Her wrist seemed just so thin. Just like he could snap it by holding it too tight. He couldn’t remember her wrists being so thin and her hands so bony. And he doesn’t remember her always being so pale either.  
It’s only because he’s already suspicious that he notices things, like Rachel looking at Monica and casually asking her if she has lost weight. Or that her plate is still untouched when he picks up the dirty dishes after dinner. He tries to talk with Ross about it, but as awkward as he is, he doesn’t get out the right questions or Ross really doesn’t know what he means. He shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, Monica gets like that sometimes. No need to be worried.”  
But he is, worried that is. He wants to ask her. If she’s alright, what the hell she’s doing to herself and if she needs any help, but he can’t. He can’t get these words out. Monica is just so perfect, so untouchable and maybe he’s imagining things, but he can see a biting “don’t you dare!” in her eyes, every time he looks at her quizzically. 

Monica takes pleasure in watching her friends eat what she has cooked. Since her teenage years her mind revolves around food. So why don’t become a chef. Feed them, feed them and watch them eat, imagine them getting fat, leaving her even skinnier. It’s sick, she knows that. Still it feels good to watch Joey make his little faces of pleasure and see Phoebe caress her belly after dinner. She feels a little bit guilty for enjoying the way Rachel struggles with fitting into her favorite Jeans. 

There’s something about Chandler that bugs her. The way he looks at her when they all sit down together to eat. The way he keeps asking her why she isn’t eating. It can’t be that he suspects anything, can it? After all he’s goofy, oblivious Chandler. But what’s there to notice, she’s alright after all. Maybe a little tired, maybe a little bit too emotional, but he doesn’t know. Non of her friends know that she spends most time in her room crying for no good reason. They don’t notice how weak her legs get and how dizzy she feels when she comes home from her run. Rachel has complained about all the hair in the shower, though. 

On a Saturday, Chandler goes out to buy Joeys favorite Pastrami Sandwiches for Breakfast and is just on his way back home, when Monica runs into him. Quite literally. She bumps into him, just finishing her run.  
She mutters a quiet “Oh, I’m sorry Chan..” then she suddenly puts her hand to her head in a gesture of dizziness and then, just like that, she faints. Chandler can just catch her, before she hits the floor.  
“Monica?” He yells at her, panicking, sandwiches forgotten on the floor. Her eyelids flutter. He takes that as a good sign, but still she’s not responding. He picks her up bridal style and carries her up the stairs. Even though he’s sure that she’s lighter than she should be, it’s strenuous to carry her up to the fifth floor.  
He’s sweating when he finally puts her on the chair in his apartment, but it’s not only from carrying her up here, but from fear as well. She seems very pale.  
“Chandler?” She asks and her voice is tiny. He shushes her and goes to get some water.  
He holds the glass, while she sips from it, pointedly not looking at him. Little by little the life is coming back to her, even though he keeps thinking that she’ll need something more than water to pick her up.  
“Thanks.” She mutters, pulls her hair from her forehead and attempts to get up.  
He waits, watches her, till she’s by the door, somehow hesitant to open it. There are things left to say between them.  
“This has to stop, Mon.” He finally says.  
“I know.” She answers casually.  
“I mean it. You have to get some help!” He puts all his concerns into his voice.  
“I know.” She says more meekly. They stare at each other and then she begins to cry. Only one silent tear, that runs down her cheek. He takes the few steps towards her, pulls her into his arms, desperately trying to hold her thin frame together, while she lets go, breaks down in his arms.  
“It’s going to be ok.” He says, because what else is there to say? “I’ve got you.” He whispers.  
And just for now, that has to be enough.


End file.
